Keeping
by Lugian Before Swine
Summary: The sequel to Howard Moon's Guide to Being Classy. Tracking a tiny mammal has never been more romantic. I think. Howard/Vince, T for swearing and suggestiveness. And I hate on Ohio, so sorry to anyone who takes offence. I can't help it; I'm from Michigan.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm not sure how long this fic is going to be, but I have a lot of ideas. Hope you enjoy part 1.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Boosh and I certainly don't make money off of this ridiculousness.**

Howard's not sure how they got to where they are, but the burly man with the rippling arm muscles shutting the door behind him might have had something to do with it.

Howard looks around. They're in a building that looks very similar to their little house at the zoo. But where are they, exactly?

Something shivers near Howard's right arm. "Graagghhh," Vince says.

"Indeed." Maybe he should move. That would probably help with figuring out the surroundings.

"I can't see," Vince moans.

A voice yells, "HORSE TRANQUILIZERS!" The voice sounds horrifyingly similar to Bob Fossil's.

Howard whips around, nearly knocking Vince off the couch they're sitting on. A couch that looks very familiar.

There's a laptop in front of them, and Fossil's face is on the screen. "I gave you horse tranquilizers," he says helpfully.

"…What the hell?" Howard says, because he can honestly think of nothing else to say.

"Howard," Vince says. His hand is reaching out blindly, grasping at air until it comes in contact with the front of Howard's shirt. "There's clones of Fossil everywhere, oh God, they're terrifying—they're calling out to me—Howard, make it stop!"

"Shh," Howard says, placing his hand on top of Vince's head. "There's only one Fossil and he's not even here."

"I'm right here! You need to hear about your mission!"

"Where the hell are we?" Howard cries. "I'm going to close the laptop if you don't talk!"

"No!" Fossil shrieks. "You're in a rented apartment in Ohio. Your furniture is there. You need to track the shrew, you know, the big scary one we talked about? And check in with me every day. And—anything else, Bainbridge?" Fossil calls over his shoulder.

"Tell them to use the map!" calls Bainbridge from a ways off.

"Oh right, there's a tracking device in the laptop—"

"And for God's sake, get me my chocolate pudding!"

"Right away, Bainbridge!" Fossil says. Then the communication window closes.

"I ate a lot of cheese right before we were supposed to leave," Vince says after a moment of confused silence. "Bainbridge just had it on his desk."

"Horse tranquilizers and cheese don't mix. Can you see now?" Howard asks.

"Yeah, better. I was so worried about the multiple Fossils."

"With good reason," Howard says solemnly. His arm is about to fall asleep.

There's a pause. Then Vince says, "D'you want some toast?"

"…Yeah."

Things become much clearer after the initial confusion and horror. The rented apartment, it turns out, is not in Ohio; it's in Michigan close to the Ohio border. As Dixon Bainbridge himself said, "Not even I'm that horrible of a person."

The mission is thus: the shrew, whom Vince has already named Betty, regardless of its actual gender, must be captured and brought back to the Zooniverse within two months, because "Do you know how much those frickin' apartments cost?" The shrew in question was once in a movie, which is why Bainbridge wants it. Howard can't figure out how Bainbridge knows this particular shrew is the right one, but then he remembers the tracking device. God, this is all so weird.

When Howard closes the laptop, Vince says, "Fossil sounds happy. D'you figure Bainbridge finally caved and let him stroke his moustache?"

"I doubt it."

There's a semi-awkward silence until Vince says, "We'll have this done in two days or so. Then we can go back and forget it ever happened."

"I hope so," Howard says. "Presumably we've only been here for a few hours, and the neighbors are already starting to annoy me." He points up to the ceiling. "It's not even four o'clock and it sounds like there's a drunken party going on up there."

"Maybe we should join them," Vince says innocently.

"Are you crazy, little man? We're on a mission. We're not going to be distracted by some idiots upstairs."

"Yeah, and what are we doing now? Is sitting around getting angry part of the mission?"

"Vince," Howard says, "this may seem like a little vacation for you; you're probably thinking about what new fashions you should debut and all the clubs you're gonna go to, but remember, we're still at work, and I won't let you slack off. If I die—"

"Oh, for God's sake, Howard, no one's going to die! Would you shut up already?"

This seems to stun them both, and for a moment they sit there staring at each other, saying nothing. Then Vince drops his gaze and says, "I'm sorry. I'm just—this is really strange."

"Yeah," Howard says. "It's okay." Now they're both looking at the fabric of the couch; the stitching is quite fascinating.

"Hey," Howard says suddenly, looking back up, "I think we've had our first real argument."

"Yeah! What a milestone," Vince says. When he lifts his head back up, his fringe sweeps over his eyes, and he laughs quietly. "We should celebrate. Go out to dinner or something. That's what normal people do, right?"

"I wouldn't know," Howard says. "But that sounds nice."

Vince smiles at him. Howard feels compelled to add something else, so he says, "I do love you, you little shitbox."

Vince laughs. "Thanks so much. That's good to hear."

"So where should we go?" Howard asks.

"I dunno. I hardly even know where we are."

Just then, a light starts flashing on the laptop. Howard picks the laptop up off the floor and opens it.

"Hey!" Fossil says. "Why are you still sitting down? Start your assignment!"

"You mean we don't even have time for a romantic candlelit dinner?" Vince asks.

"NO! Get your romantic candlelit asses on the trail of that shrew!" The window closes.

Howard shuts the laptop. "…I do not have a romantic candlelit ass," he says quietly.

Vince laughs and reaches for Howard's hand. "At some point, we'll see about that."

_Cheeky bastard._


	2. Chapter 2

Howard is sitting in the armchair, looking up words in the dictionary. Well, not word_s_, just one word in particular.

confidence (n) 1: trust, reliance 2: self-assurance, boldness 3: a state of trust or intimacy

"What are you doing?"

Howard jumps. "Reading the dictionary?" It sounds like a question. How long has Vince been standing there?

Vince grins cheekily at him. "Are you looking up naughty words, Howard? You know, you can ask me if there's something you want to know. You don't have to look in the dictionary."

"No! No, it's not that," Howard says. He's starting to blush. _Why? You haven't done anything remotely embarrassing!_

"Sure," Vince drawls. "I believe you." He moves closer to the armchair. Howard instinctively recoils a little.

"Vince, we have to talk about something," he says.

"What?" Vince isn't grinning anymore, but he's trying to look upbeat.

"Well…" Howard wrings the dictionary in his hands and is promptly disgusted with himself for beginning to harm a book. "Remember yesterday, when I called you a shitbox?"

Vince raises an eyebrow. "Yes…?"

"I'm sorry," Howard says. He's trying to look Vince in the eyes, but shame is leading his eyes downward towards his feet.

Vince is continuing to give him a quizzical look. "For what?"

"For saying that! Granted, I did precede it with 'I love you,' which should have rendered it an inoffensive term of endearment. Still—"

Now Vince understands. "Howard," he says, cutting him off, "please be quiet now."

"I just don't—" but Vince leans down and promptly shuts him up.

"Confidence," Howard says when they break apart. Somehow, Vince has managed to maneuver himself onto the armchair and into Howard's lap without ever breaking their kiss. _That takes talent._

"What?"

"That was what I was looking up." Howard is still trying to catch his breath, so the words come out strained and odd-sounding.

"What," Vince says, "to see if you've got it?"

"I guess."

There's a pause while they stare at each other. Howard tries to wring his hands, but finds that he can't, because they're clutching the back of Vince's shirt.

A light begins to flash on the laptop, which is sitting on the floor in front of them. Howard stares at it, contemplating.

"What are you looking at?" Vince asks.

"The laptop's flashing," Howard says noncommittally. "What do you suppose Fossil wants to tell us?"

"Ugh, can we not talk about him right now? Or ever?" Vince twists sideways and places his head against Howard's chest.

Howard is definitely not getting the laptop.

Eventually, they leave the armchair after deciding that they may actually have to do some work. Well, the decision was Howard's; Vince just grudgingly agreed. Nevertheless, Howard opens the laptop and attempts to contact Fossil. Vince is sitting next to him, eating his creepy face-toast. (Although Howard eats it now, it never ceases to frighten him.)

Fossil's face appears on the screen, huge and terrifying. Vince chokes on his toast and attempts to cover it up.

"Why did you ignore me earlier? I have important information for you!" Fossil yells.

"Sorry, we were…in the other room," Howard says.

"THERE IS NO OTHER ROOM!" Fossil screeches. "Unless you meant the bathroom, in which case, I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!"

Vince elbows Howard in the side and snorts. "Good one."

"Anyway," Howard says, ignoring him, "what's the information, then?"

"The information is that I bought a parrot!"

Vince and Howard say nothing. After a moment, Howard says, "Is that all?"

"Yeah, isn't it great? Also, GET TO WORK!" The window closes.

"Productive man, isn't he?" Howard says. Vince nods.

It's not until after they've left the apartment that Howard realizes wearing their Zooniverse uniforms outside makes people give them strange looks.

"I can't believe this," Vince says. "I mean, I'm not a fan of this uniform either, but that doesn't mean I should be mocked for it!"

"I agree, little man. Nevertheless, it is our duty as zookeepers to carry out our mission while in the proper attire."

"Please stop, or I'll really give them something to stare at us for."

Howard frowns. Vince laughs. "Let's just do this, okay? Where's Betty now?"

Howard looks around. "…Is that her? Running along the side of that house?"

Vince stares. "Maybe." There's a pause, and then they run.

The shrew, upon seeing their approach, runs under a porch step just as Howard and Vince reach the house.

"How can we know if it's her or not?" Vince asks.

"The tracking device," Howard says. He pulls what appears to be a walkie-talkie out of his pocket. "The portable version," he says when Vince gives him a questioning look.

"Of course," he says.

Howard points the needle of the machine at the porch step. Nothing happens.

"I guess that's not the right one," he says.

Vince sighs. "Too bad. This mission would have ended very quickly."

"Hello, boys," a shaky voice says from the direction of the house. There's an old lady dressed in a floral-print gown standing on the porch. "Can I help you?"

"Oh," Howard says.

"No thanks," Vince cuts in quickly. "We're just—" He stops as a cat emerges from around the corner of the house.

"Oh, Mr. Tinkles," the woman says. The cat in question walks over and winds itself around Vince's legs, purring.

"Oh God," Vince says after a moment.

"What?" Howard asks.

But before Vince has a chance to respond, the old woman says, "Mr. Tinkles likes you! Oh, you must come in for some tea."

"Oh, well, that's very kind of you, but we're working right now; can't take any breaks—"

The woman waves a hand. "Nonsense. Come on in."

Howard looks at Vince. Vince looks down at the cat, nods, and then points to the house. "We have time, Howard. Let's have some tea."

Howard blinks. Vince's eyes look…_pleading?_

"All right," he says, and they both walk up the porch steps, the old lady repeating "Delightful!" over and over as they make their way inside. The cat is clinging to Vince's legs, nearly causing him to trip.

As Vince and Howard walk through the door of the house, Vince hisses into Howard's ear, "We have a problem."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for the long-ish wait!**

The tea is only mediocre. This upsets Howard, but not as much as the fact that Vince won't tell him what's going on. They're sitting at the old lady's dining room table, and Clarabelle, the fascinating old woman, is telling them a story about the "olden days" back out West.

The cat is lying on Vince's feet under the table. When he catches Howard looking at him, he mews noncommittally.

"…and my father, being a very hardworking gentleman…"

Howard stares at Vince across the table. Vince looks uneasy. Howard would very much like to comfort him and also slap him for keeping him in the dark.

Just as Howard begins to consider his options, and which one would look better in polite company, Vince stands up and says, "Excuse me, can I use your restroom?"

"Certainly," Clarabelle says. "It's just down the hall there." She points, then turns to look at Howard. Howard can see that Vince goes in the opposite direction. _Finally, something's getting done. Hopefully._

"Where was I? Oh yes, my father had just built the new barn—I hope I'm not boring you, dear," Clarabelle says.

"Oh no, not at all," Howard says.

"Would you like more tea?"

Howard sighs. "No, I'm fine, thanks."

"If you insist. Well, the barn was red with white doors…"

It's a full half hour before Howard gets any word from Vince. Clarabelle has only stopped talking to take sips of her tea, and she seems to have totally forgotten about her other company. Howard receives a text from Vince which says, _come to bathroom right now srsly now_ and that's all.

"Oh, dearie," Clarabelle says, "you must be bored; you're looking at your cellular gadget."

"No," Howard says quickly, "I just—need to use the bathroom."

"Oh, of course. It's just down the hall."

Howard pauses for a second to consider what he just said, realizes it made no sense but that the crazy old lady accepted his excuse anyway, and then powerwalks to the bathroom.

Vince is sitting on the floor with the cat, and it's then that Howard recognizes what Vince is doing: he and the cat are talking.

When Vince sees Howard come in, he stands up and says, "I didn't think it could be true, but Mr. Tinkles showed me. Howard, this is gonna sound crazy, but you've got to believe me, all right?"

Howard tilts his head, questioning, but he says, "Okay."

"There's a workshop—well, a sweatshop, really—in the basement. This woman has 18 cats down there, working in shifts, walking around in this huge wheel—it's like a hamster wheel, but way bigger—and they power her electricity. Howard, it's awful, they're skinny and mangy and they sleep in cardboard boxes—when they get to sleep. She invited us over because the neighbors were getting suspicious coz she's such a recluse."

The first thing Howard wants to do is laugh, but then he notices that Vince is starting to cry, and he immediately feels like complete shit. He's fairly certain he's never seen Vince cry before, and he hopes he'll never have to see it again, although there is a curious beauty to it, especially since Vince somehow manages to be very quiet and not even sniffle.

"Oh," Howard says, and he takes a step forward and wraps his arms around Vince, who is trembling slightly.

After a moment, Vince says, "This is ridiculous. I'm gonna ruin my makeup," and Howard knows he's okay, but he also knows that apparently, something must be done to remedy the situation.

Vince pulls away from Howard and says, "We're zookeepers. We have to do something. We've got to take those cats."

Howard blinks, processing. "Eighteen cats? We're just gonna take 18 cats and hide them?"

"Yeah," Vince says, like it's painfully obvious.

Howard thinks that Vince may be mentally unstable, and also knows he'd do anything for him. "Right, what's the plan, then?"

As it turned out, Clarabelle had been running this secret horror for a number of years, and was willing to surrender the cats if Vince and Howard promised not to turn her in.

"What is that newfangled thing you kids do?" she said. "Pinky swear?"

Vince went back to the basement and alerted the cats to the plan, and they agreed to follow him back. Mr. Tinkles, Clarabelle's favorite and the only non-worker, would stay with her because, "She needs some company or she'd go bat-shit insane," Vince relayed.

"Seems she's already done that," Howard muttered.

The cats are following behind them back to the apartment, which, coincidentally, has a strict no-cat rule. When they get there, Vince ushers them inside while Howard stands guard, glad they have a room on the first floor.

When the door has been closed and the cats are safely inside, there's nowhere to sit down.

"Vince," Howard says, "we can't keep them. You know that, right?"

Vince looks up at him and pouts. "But Nibbles here is well into Bowie!"

"There's no room for us!"

The cats, however, are happy to squeeze into a corner in order to make room for their rescuers.

"We're going to have to buy them food," Howard says after they've sat down on the couch. "Look at them, they're like little kitty twigs."

Vince laughs. "Yeah, we will. Sorry about today; I know we didn't get to work at all."

"Well, there is still time," Howard says, looking at his watch.

"That was a hint," Vince says.

"Oh."

Vince elbows him in the side, grinning, and Howard smiles. He thinks he could do this forever—not rescuing abused cats from insane old women, but sitting around with Vince, talking and smiling and perhaps eventually doing distinctly couple-y things, like crosswords out of the morning paper. Maybe when they're done working at the zoo—

"What're you thinking about?" Vince asks.

"Life," Howard says, shrugging.

"Well stop it, then, you should be thinking about me and how wonderful I am," Vince says.

Howard would like to say, "I was and you are," but it comes out as a series of mumbles against Vince's lips.

"Now you are for sure," Vince says after a moment, and Howard laughs. _What else could possibly go wrong?_


	4. Chapter 4

_On the track of Betsy or whatever ridiculous name you've given the shrew. You looked tired yesterday so I thought I'd let you sleep. Be back soon. Love, H._

Vince imagines Howard debated for what was probably a significant length of time over whether it was too soon to use the word 'love' in a note. Vince smiles. It's not too soon.

After a few minutes of silence, he gets bored without Howard, so he chats it up with the cats. They're very talkative.

Howard needs batteries. Just plain, regular, everyday batteries for the portable tracking device. The man behind the counter of the drug store is brandishing a knife in his face (thankfully, there's a cover over it) and saying "This? You want this?"

"That's not exactly what I had in mind, no."

The man looks puzzled. Howard sighs and says, "I'll just look for them myself, okay?"

The man stares suspiciously at him. Howard backs away from the counter and retreats to one of the aisles.

"No, not coughdrops," he mutters irritably, and he turns the corner into the next aisle and runs into someone.

"Oh my God!" the someone says. It turns out to be a young woman, probably a few years younger than Howard. "I'm so sorry."

"No, no," Howard says, and then he notices the woman is holding a pencil case. For reasons he can't understand, he finds this highly endearing. "My fault."

They stare at each other for a few seconds, then Howard says, "Well, bye," and hightails it out of the store.

He walks back to the apartment feeling strange. He didn't inadvertently cheat on Vince by talking to a woman, did he? No, that'd be ridiculous.

When he comes in, he finds Vince asleep on the couch, and the laptop is by his face. Howard doesn't want to wake him, but presumably there was a message from Fossil that he has to find out. He puts his hand on Vince's shoulder and says, "Wake up," very softly.

Vince slowly opens his eyes and stares up at him. "Oh, hey," he says. He looks completely content, smiling and still half-asleep, and something catches in Howard's throat at the sight of him like this. How anyone could be so happy living with a nutter and working such a strange job is completely beyond Howard's understanding.

"I got your note," Vince says. He sits up and reaches for Howard's hands. Howard assumes that Vince wants help getting up, but instead Vince pulls him down onto the couch next to him with a surprising show of strength. Howard gives a squawk of indignation and Vince laughs. "Not as weak as I look, yeah?"

"What did Fossil want?" Howard asks, pointing to the laptop.

"He wants us to get moving faster, you know, the usual. He seemed upset that you weren't in."

"But I was working!"

"I told him that, but he's a complete screwball. Didn't believe me. I shut the window on him."

"Vince, he's our boss!" Howard cries. "You can't blatantly disrespect him like that!"

"Too late," Vince says, grinning. "So, did you find anything?"

Howard sighs. "The tracker died, and I couldn't get any batteries. Then—" Howard is about to tell Vince about the Pencil Case Girl, but he thinks better of it. Vince would just get suspicious, and a suspicious soulmate never bodes well. "Then I came home because I missed you."

Vince laughs. "As if. You just got tired of walking about doing nothing."

"No!" Howard says, suddenly desperate. In light of recent events, he feels he has to make sure Vince knows…well, that Howard won't be doing any cheating any time soon. Or ever. "I did miss you. I love you, Vince." He's blushing, but it must be said.

Vince looks at him curiously. "That's not exactly news to me, but it's nice to hear," he says. "I love you, too, although you're a bit strange." He smiles as he says it, and Howard feels better.

"Right, then," Howard says, and he moves to stand up, but Vince latches onto his sleeve and tugs him back down.

"Where are you going? This is nice, yeah?"

Howard pauses. Sometimes he finds it difficult to believe that he could have gotten so lucky, what with having a—that word that's even difficult to think—_boyfriend_ who genuinely loves him back. It's times like these when he feels supremely unworthy.

"Yeah," he says. "This is nice. You're nice. Have I told you that lately? You're very nice."

Vince grins, and Howard thinks he may even be blushing, just a little. Either way, he's obviously delighted. Howard thinks that this moment couldn't get any better.

And he's right, because just as Howard begins to revel in the happiness, one of the mangy cats walks over and shits on his shoe.

There's a pause, then Vince says, "I think we need a litter box."


End file.
